


Poppies of Dying Love

by monarch_v



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Language of Flowers, M/M, Magical Disease, Mild Gore, Not Beta Read, Probably ooc, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-07 09:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monarch_v/pseuds/monarch_v
Summary: “You need to go to the infirmary, Baz. You’re sick.”“And grass is green. There’s no need to point out the obvious, Snow.”===Baz gets Hanahaki after years of pining.[Completed. Will update on 4/24 and 4/27.]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **For the best experience, please enable work skins!

**Baz**

 

Hanahaki Disease. It’s a rare illness that plagued some of those who have unrequited love. Flowers grow in the afflicted person’s lungs, suffocating them in a matter of months, weeks, or even days. All because someone didn’t love them back.

I, unfortunately, seem to have gotten it judging by the slightly bloody yellow petals I had just coughed up. The Pitch line has always been particularly susceptible to the disease, albeit there not being a case of it in decades.

I guess I’m a special case, considering that not many people fall in love with their sworn rival.

Yes, I have fallen in love with my rival. I’ve fallen in love with the way sunlight hits his hair, the freckles on his skin, and the fire in his eyes. I’ve fallen for his own awkward charm, his loyalty and love for his few friends, and his strength and bravery.

 

I love Simon Snow.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t.

 

* * *

 

It started as an itch in my chest in my last class of the day. I mistakenly thought it was just bloodthirst, considering the fact that it’s been a day and a half since I fed.

But when I got back to my dorm, my legs unconsciously carried me to the bathroom. My knees dropped in front of the toilet and I promptly hurled blood-speckled flower petals. The itch in my chest became a sharp sting, made worse by every cough I had.

Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away furiously. I buried my head in my arms, and I barely registered the door to the dorm opening, Snow’s voice carrying through.

 

“—inotaur is calling for you. He’s wondering where you… are…” I look up, and Snow timidly stands in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes flicking between the blood around my mouth and the red-stained yellow petals on my hand.

“Baz… what…?”

 

I jolt, coughing even more petals into my hand. There’s more blood on my hands and dripping from my lips, and I see Snow shrink back with fear and concern on his face.

“Wh— What’s wrong with you?”

I sneer, the backs of my eyes burning.

 

“Get out.”

“Wha—“

“I said _get OUT!_ ”

 

Snow turns around and gives me one last glance before running out of our dorm. I just know he will go to Bunce and pester her with questions about why his archenemy is puking up flowers.

Just my luck.

 

I bury my head into my arms, the tears that have built up falling and washing some of the blood away.

 

**Simon**

 

_What is wrong with him?_

I don’t know what to do. I’m pretty sure puking blood and flowers isn’t normal, even for vampires.

Why was he puking flower petals? Did he eat some flower? If he did, that wouldn’t explain the blood.

Was he poisoned? If he was, that wouldn’t explain the flower petals.

Maybe he was poisoned _with_ flower petals? No, that’s stupid. Baz puked whole flowers, as if they had been growing inside him.

Wait. Is there a magical disease that makes flowers grow in your lungs?

 

I need to talk to Penny.

 

* * *

 

I find her in the library, studying with a few open books surrounding her.

 

“This is the third time you came to me this week talking about Baz, so it better be worthwhile.”

“I saw him puking yellow flowers and blood.”

“... That is worthwhile.” Penny nodded. “Go on.”

 

“I walked in on him in the bathroom and there was blood on his hand, on his face, some dripping from his nose.” I recall. “There were bloody petals and even whole flowers on the floor. It sounds crazy, but I think the flowers were growing inside him. Swallowing flowers without damaging them should be impossible, right?.”

 

Penny rubs her chin. “Flowers growing inside you…” Her eyes widen. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” I ask frantically as she stands up and begins to speed walk to a secluded, barely used section of the library. I stop to stand beside her as she traces the spines of the dusty books.

 

“Here.” Penny pulls out a dusty but gilded book and flips to a page titled ‘Hanahaki Disease.’ I look over her shoulder as she reads a passage from the book aloud.

 

Hanahaki Disease is a rare disease only contracted when the afflicted loves someone so strongly that their emotions denature their magical core, forcing the magic in a person to turn against them, hence the flowers growing and invading one’s body.

If untreated, the victim dies of suffocation. Once the first few flowers has been coughed up, the victim only has three to five months to live.

Symptoms include coughing up flowers, weak magic, and immune deficiency.

 

I furrow my brows. Unrequited love?

The book goes on.

 

There are only two cures: having your love returned or surgery.

Surgery to remove the flowers is only successful on 6.3% of victims. By the time the victim begins to cough up blood and petals, the flowers have already infiltrated the thoracic cavity by weaving in and out of the intercostal spaces, as well as around the aortic arch and, in severe cases, the heart itself.

It makes floradectomy, the removal of the flowers, a very delicate procedure. The procedure is no longer viable for patients who have had the disease for a month or longer.

 

I cough. “What does that mean?”

 

“The flowers grow around the ribs, the lungs, and the heart. Makes it hard to remove them without killing the person, and the surgery would kill anyone who has had Hanahaki for a month or longer.” Penny paraphrases it.

 

“Are you absolutely positive _Baz_ has it?”

“This is the only magical disease that has ‘flowers growing in you’ as a symptom.”

 

“I’m surprised. I mean, I’m sure everyone would kill for an opportunity to woo a Pitch. He’s not bad for a bloke.” I say, and Penny shoots me a strange look. “I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t like him, except me. And it can’t be me, because he absolutely hates me.”

“Alright, Simon.” Penny snaps the book closed and pushes it back into the shelf. “Well, I’ve got to get back to studying. Want to join me?”

“No, I’m good. I wanna make sure that Baz isn’t puking his guts out all over our room.” I run off and leave the library, sprinting to the Mummers House.

 

When I open the door to our room, Baz is sitting on his bed reading a book, as if he wasn’t just hurling his guts into the sink 15 minutes earlier.

 

“Did you get everything you needed from Bunce, or do you want me to tell you?”

“What? I—”

“Just stop, Snow. It was nothing. Just nothing.”

 

I sputter. Baz always deflects, but it’s really jarring this time because I know something’s not right. “It wasn’t just nothing, you need—”

“I don’t have to discuss private matters with you just because you’re my roommate. End of discussion.” I feel the hairs on my arms stand on end, magic running down my back and through my arms. The air around me gets smoky, and I unconsciously grit my teeth.

Why did Baz have to act so… arrogant? I just want to help him! I take deep breaths to calm myself. I try to push Baz’s sneering face out of my mind. He is still reading his book, his back turned to me. When I go down for dinner, I slam the door closed as loudly as possible, just to annoy him.

 

* * *

 

**Baz**

In the next week, the prickling itch of the flowers growing in my chest grows to be a familiar feeling. I keep up my proud appearance and my animosity towards Snow, and no one suspects a thing.

He still glares at me at breakfast while shoving too many sour cherry scones in his mouth. Bunce still looks annoyed at Snow’s atrocious manners. Wellbelove is still looking at me with glossy eyes.

 

(I believe she still thinks that I fancy her. How wrong she is.)

 

I manage to cough up enough flowers between classes that I wouldn’t have the urge to puke up the petals in class. Not only would that be humiliating, but I don’t need the whole of Watford to know that I’m desperately in love with someone I can’t have.

With every time I cough up flowers and blood, I notice my sense of smell getting sharper and my fangs popping out just a bit more every time I brush by someone. All the blood loss isn’t good for my vampire side; that means I’d probably have to feed everyday just to stay sane, instead of every other day.

 

I have to do something about this. There has to be a spell I can use to help me.

I stop by the library after my last class, and I look around to make sure Snow or Bunce aren’t watching or following me.

I make my way to the secluded corner of the library with a pen and paper in my hands. The air in this section is coated with dust and the smell of crisp old parchment.

I trace my fingers along the spines of the books until I find—

 

“Ah.” The heavy tome has ‘Encyclopedia of Magickal Diseases’ emblazoned on the side. I pull it out and flip through it until I find the entry for Hanahaki Disease.

 

Spells cannot heal the affliction completely, but can ease the pain and symptoms.

  * Too dear for my possessing
  * My theme in every song
  * Against all discouragement that could be



 

The list went on. I notice a small yellow sticky note at the bottom of the book, with blue scrawl.

 

21/5/2014

‘ _ **Only then I am clean**_ ’

Gets rid of most of the flowers. May get rid of the pain, may not. Use sparingly.

 

I write down every spell and bit of information I can get from that page before replacing the book and going back to our dorm.

(The whole book would be too heavy to carry, and Snow might bring up my… affliction… if he sees it.)

 

Snow will be at dinner, so this is a good opportunity to try it some of these.

I stand in the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. My face is a lot paler than usual, which says a lot considering I was already pale in the first place.

I point the wand at myself, the tip of it brushing my throat.

 

“ _ **Too dear for my possessing!**_ ”

 

I barely feel a hint of magic and the prickling pain is still there.

I try another spell from the book. Then another. Then another.

 

So far, none of them have been helping me. Probably because they're old.

 

The only one I haven’t tried is the one I saw on the sticky note. I hesitated trying it. It wasn’t a spell in the book, so what if it had some adverse effect?

… Well, beggars can’t be choosers.

I point the wand at my throat again.

 

“ _ **Only then I am clean!**_ ”

 

Immediately, I feel blood and petals coming up my throat, and I lurch in front of the toilet.

I thought that this was an adverse effect, but after getting an astounding amount of flowers out of my system, I could barely feel the prickling pain in my chest.

While it helped with my pain, it only worsened my bloodthirst. My teeth are aching and hot, and my bones feel dry and sore.

 

I look at the time. It’s dark, and Snow wouldn’t be back from dinner for another half hour.

Time to take a trip to the Catacombs. At this rate, I might have to drug the rats with aphrodisiacs just to maintain the rat population.

I might have to go to the Wavering Wood to feed. The dryads don’t mind, but it’s a terrible idea to get off school grounds after dark.

 

I cross my fingers and hope that there are enough rats for tonight.

 

**Simon**

 

It’s been a week and a half since I saw Baz puking flowers in the bathroom. Maybe it’s just me, but he looks slightly sicker. His skin is paler and his eyes are sunken in, There’s a furrow in his brow that doesn’t seem to go away. He still keeps up his posh appearance, though. That prat drenches the bathroom in cedar and bergamot.

 

He’s still at the top of our class, but no one seems to notice how much pain he’s in. I feel bad for him.

Even if he’s my enemy, my rival who I’m destined to kill, I still can’t help but wish that whoever he’s in love with loves him back. I’m not heartless.

 

Besides, I’m the one who’s supposed to kill him, aren’t I?

 

“Simon!”

 

I jump and see Penny clutching my shoulder.

“What are you doing? Pay attention!” She hisses through her teeth as she gestures to the front of the room to Ms. Possibelf.

I noticed that I had my eyes trained on the back of Baz’s head. He’s a seat ahead, to the left, and he’s impatiently tapping his pen on his book.

 

“Doesn’t Baz seem… paler to you?”

Penny rolls her eyes. “Not this again, Si.”

 

“He’s dying, Pen.”

“You don’t know that, maybe he’s cured already.”

“But he looks terrible! He’s sickly, you can’t see?”

“We’ll talk about this later. Pay attention, because I won’t be helping you this time.”

 

We both knew that was a lie. Penny would help me with anything no matter what.

I try to focus on Ms. Possibelf’s teaching, but my mind can’t help but stray to Baz.

Will the person he loves fall in love with him in time, or will this disease kill him?

 

* * *

 

I come up to the room after classes end and I see him just lying down on his bed with his eyes closed, a hand resting on his chest.

He never takes naps at this time of day. If I stay quiet and listen closely, I could hear strained wheezing from him. Of course, having to cough up flower petals and blood would take a toll on just about anyone.

 

Baz is so tired that he isn’t even using a blanket, and the window is open. He always complains about being cold when the window is open, and he buries himself under a pile of blankets every night when we sleep.

I hesitate, but I take the blanket at the foot of Baz’s bed and throw it over his still form. He barely stirs.

 

I think of what Penny or Agatha would say if they saw me doing this. Baz and I are archenemies, after all, so why would I even help him?

 

The answer? I’m not a cruel person. I don’t want to aggravate or stress him out. He barely has a half of a year to live, and I don’t think I should make things any harder for him.

He might be a blood sucking monster, but I can’t be mean to a man whose days are numbered.

 

**Baz**

 

If I thought sharing a room with Snow was torture before, it’s a hellish punishment now.

I can’t see, hear, or even _smell_ him without feeling the flowers prickle and threaten to burst out of my throat.

If I haven’t lost so much blood already, I would be red in the face by how much stress I’m going through trying not to cough. If I was red in the face, Snow would point it out, making the pain worse.

 

True to my masochistic tendencies, I still maintain my daily routine of staring at Snow at night when he sleeps. It makes the Hanahaki worse, but I don’t care. It’s the closest thing I can get to a decent relationship with him, and I’m not going to throw it away just because of a little pain.

He’s still as radiant as ever, even in the dark and his sleep. Snow is a fire in more ways than one. Magicians are drawn to his magic like Icarus is to the sun.

Moonlight from the open window shines on the planes of his freckled face, and he looks like Ganymede himself.

 

Then I’m reminded of Wellbelove, and my throat constricts. I frantically rip off the sheets and sit up, clutching at my throat and trying to breathe quietly.

I calm down after a while, and Snow doesn’t even stir.

I really need to get rid of this before anyone other than Snow or Bunce find out.

 

Reaching under my bed, I pull out a sheaf of papers; the ones with the notes I took about the disease.

 

I skim over the words in neat black script.

Long Term Treatments  


  * Surgery: almost never successful, few patients who survived lost full range of emotion.
  * Having your love returned.



I wistfully stare at the second bullet point. Simon Snow, the Chosen One, falling in love with a Pitch? Impossible.

I think about how I’ll most definitely be dead by the time the holiday break rolls around. I’m halfway there anyway, thanks to my vampirism. All this for one boy. I ought to tell Aunt Fiona about this. I ought to tell _someone_ about this. Not now, but soon.

 

Soon.

 

* * *

 

 

Weeks go by, and school is uneventful. I still haven’t told anyone about my disease. It’s been a long time since Simon has brought up my affliction, so I’m hoping he completely forgot about it. The pain is getting worse and worse, and the symptoms are starting to become more obvious.

My professors are starting to raise an eyebrow at how weak my casting has become. I tell them that I’ve been feeling a bit under-the-weather, which isn’t exactly a lie.

 

I keep up my routine of going to an empty bathroom and coughing up the flowers before every class. Everyday, there’s more blood and more petals. Every once in a while, when I watch Snow a little too long, I end up coughing whole flowers.

Yellow poppies. Bright, just like he is.

It begins to get harder to hold off on coughing up the flowers in class and at mealtimes, even while blatantly ignoring Snow. Dev and Niall are starting to question why I run off to the bathroom so often.

 

I don’t know what to do.

 

“Baz? Are you all right?”

Right. I’m sitting with Dev and Niall, eating dinner. I hear Simon laugh across the room, probably cracking a joke with Wellbelove, and I start to feel the flower petals inch up my throat.

“I have to go,” I mumble, taking my handkerchief and covering my mouth. I stand and begin to make my way to the restrooms, but someone catches my arm. I turn to see that Niall is the one holding me back, a look of indignance on his face.

 

“This is the eighth time you’ve gone to the bathroom today, don't act like we haven't noticed. You’re looking sickly and your magic is weak. You’re not telling us something, Baz.”

“Please, I’ll explain later,” I plead, lowering the handkerchief so they can catch what I’m saying. I have to get out of here before they find out.

 

Everyone can’t find out like this.

 

“You’ve told us that every time. Tell us what’s going on,” Dev asserted, speaking a little too loudly. People are starting to watch, hushed whispers going around the hall.

I try to pull away but Niall tightens his grip on my arm.

 

“Baz, you can’t—”

 

I raise the handkerchief to my mouth right before I begin to have a coughing fit. _Merlin. Merlin and Morgana and Methuselah, I’m doomed._

My vision swims, and I don’t realize that I’ve fallen to my knees. I barely notice the shock radiating from Dev, Niall, and the rest of the students.

 

When I finish coughing, I pull the bloody handkerchief away only to see three fully bloomed yellow poppies sprayed with blood and bits of flesh. I would say they looked beautiful if I didn’t just cough them up.

Gasps echoed throughout the room and I look up to see students looking at me in various states of disbelief and fear. Snow is looking at me with some kind of emotion in his eyes, but I can’t tell what it is.

 

“Baz… you have Hanahaki.” Dev states, his eyes wide. He’s trying to be cool about it, but I know he didn’t expect this. Neither of them did.

 

I stand and clench the fist holding the handkerchief, crushing the flowers.

“Like I’ve said, I have to go. Good night,” I bite out with as much venom I can put into my voice as possible. Dev and Niall didn’t flinch, but I can see some hint of remorse or pity on their faces.

With all eyes on me, I walk to the grand doors and leave. When I’m out of their sight, I break into a sprint and head to the White Cathedral.

 

I need time to think. And to feed.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, Baz's dad comes off a little OOC. To be completely honest, I just want to write a nice father-son interaction _for once_. Can you blame me?

**Simon**

So I wasn’t crazy after all.

I was beginning to think that Baz was right, that he was fine. I only saw him puke flowers once, and after that he seemed fine.

 

Penny whistles from across the table after Baz left in that overly dramatic fashion. “So it’s real, huh. Baz Pitch, desperately in love with someone he can’t have.”

“Poor Baz. I wonder how long he’s been hiding this. The teachers were starting to notice his magic getting weaker.” Agatha absentmindedly twirls a lock of light golden hair around her finger, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

“It’s been almost a month, I think, since I accidentally walked in on him puking up flowers in the bathroom.”

“That means that he has two or three months left, four at most.” Penny counts out. “If his love isn’t returned, he’ll die at Christmas.”

“Can someone fall in love in four months?” I ask.

“I know of a Normal who made a list of 36 questions that would help two people make a connection and potentially fall in love.” Agatha shrugs. “It’s not guaranteed, and no one knows who Baz loves. I doubt he’ll tell anyone after this. I’d be mortified too if the whole of Watford found out about my secret but extremely strong love for a mysterious person because I vomited flowers in front of them.”

“Well, that’s true.”

 

Silence descends upon our table while anxious chatter surrounded us.

“There has to be something we can do, right?” I say, looking between both of them.

“No, Simon. Besides, I thought you were going to be happy about this? Don’t you hate Baz?” Penny squints at me.

“Yeah but— but he can be plotting something!” I stutter.

“That’s a weak excuse.”

“Okay, fine. I just feel bad for him! I’m not a complete prick, you know.”

She shrugs. “Fair enough, then.”

No one says anything else for the rest of dinner.

 

* * *

 

I wait for Baz in our room afterwards.

But he doesn’t come up. I wait some more.

After what feels like hours, I decide I can’t take it anymore. I know where he goes when he’s upset, or if he’s plotting.

I get up, throw on a jacket, and head to the Catacombs.

 

Sure enough, Baz was there sulking, sitting on the ground surrounded by several skulls and what seemed to be dried up rat corpses.

He has his back turned to me.

 

“Baz?”

He practically jumps out of his skin as he turns around, eyes widened and frantic. Baz calms down when he sees me.

 

“Snow. It’s you.” He looks remarkably tired, dark circles rimming his stormy grey eyes.

“Yes, it’s me.”

We stare at each other for what feels like eternity before Baz speaks up.

“Well, why are you here? Here to flaunt your victory? Here to really rub in the fact that I’ve lost to some ridiculous disease? The whole school knows, and it won’t be long until the Mage and my family does too.”

I can tell he’s trying to make me mad, trying to make me go off so I can leave him alone. It’s not working. The venom in his voice is completely gone, replaced with something weary and sad.

“I’m not here to do any of that, Baz,” I say plainly. “I’m here to tell you to come back to our room. There’s no point in sulking in a dark and dingy place when everyone already knows about it.”

 

Baz sneers and shakes his head. “Really? You, caring about me? Is this some kind of elaborate trick?”

“I’m trying to be nice to you, you fucking wanker. Now get up or I’ll drag you up there myself.”

He doesn’t move to get up, so I walk over to him and yank him up by his wrist.

 

“What in Aleister’s name are you doing, Snow?” Baz hisses as I take his arm and sling it over my shoulder so I can hold him up. The posh smell of cedar and bergamot wafting off his clothes hits me in the face, and it makes the musty air of the crypt we’re in slightly more bearable.

“I’m not letting you sulk yourself to death in this place. We’re going to our room and that’s final.”

He begrudgingly accepts his fate and, together, we walk out of the Catacombs into the cool night air.

 

Halfway through the trek back, I start to feel Baz shivering like a fragile leaf in the wind.

“One second.” I take his arm off my shoulders, leaving him to stand as I take off my jacket and hand it to him. He scrunches his nose at the proffered piece of clothing.

“Take it. I can hear your teeth chatter.”

He takes it and puts it on. It’s a little small on him, but that doesn’t matter.

“Alright, let’s g—”

Baz begins to choke on something, and he takes out the handkerchief from earlier to cover his mouth.

 

I don’t know what to do, so I stand there. When he’s done, he takes the bloody handkerchief away from his mouth.

“I would cast a spell to clean that, but you know how awful I am at controlling my magic.”

He tosses me an odd look before taking out his wand.

 

“ _ **Out, out damned spot!**_ ” He rasps, and the handkerchief cleans itself save for a few spots of blood at the corners.

His magic really is getting weaker.

“You need to go to the infirmary, Baz. You’re sick.” I try to tell him; he scoffs.

“And grass is green. There’s no need to point out the obvious, Snow.”

 

I know he’ll never listen to me anyway, so I drop the subject.

“Let’s go.” I pull his arm over my shoulders again, and together we walk to the Mummers’ house.

 

**Baz**

I was called to the infirmary a day after news of my disease spread around Watford.

They checked my vitals, gave me magical body scans, and asked me mildly invasive questions all while lying down on one of the infirmary’s slightly uncomfortable beds.

Then Father and Aunt Fiona decide to visit. They have grave looks on their faces, ones of pity and shame, as they stand in the empty infirmary.

 

“Basil…” Fiona hesitates before going to sit beside me on the bed. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”

I say nothing, keeping my eyes trained on my father who is still staring at me with thinly veiled disappointment.

 

“Basilton, please answer me.”

I keep my mouth shut.

“Alright, fine. Can we at least know who it is?” She sighs.

“... No.”

 

My father clears his throat. “There’s no choice but to get the surgery then. You will have to recover by Christmas.”

“Apologies for interrupting, Master Grimm, but your son is no longer a viable candidate for the surgery.” The nurse standing nearby said.  
“According to the scans, the flower cover in his chest cavity has increased to 32%. Basil has stage 2 Hanahaki disease, and operating on a patient past stage 1 is guaranteed to be fatal.”

My father pauses, and his eyebrow twitches.

“So there is no other cure. My son will die, no matter what.” He taps the walking stick he’s holding on the ground, his knuckles white around the carved silver wolf handle of the cane.

 

The nurse falters under my father’s intense glare. “I— Yes, unfortunately. We wish we could do more for your son, but this is out of our hands. However, we can create potions to help with the pain and the scratchy throat.”

He drops the glare and nods. “I see. Please give me a moment to talk to him. Alone.” Fiona nods understandingly and leaves.

“Alright. I’ll leave you two to it. We can discuss the treatment plans afterwards.” The nurse leaves, and my father and I are the only ones in the room.

He pulls a chair up next to the bed and sits in front of me, never breaking eye contact.

 

“I’m sorry, Father.” I look down at the hands in my lap.

“Basil. You’ve no need to apologize.” He lays a hand on my shoulder.

“I may not be the best father, but I acknowledge that you cannot choose who you love.” He looks forlorn.

“I only hope that you could have told us sooner. We could have helped you.” My father looks at the watch on his wrist.

 

“I have other errands to run, so I’ve got to go.” He stands up and brushes himself off, taking his walking cane in hand. “But… please be careful. Know that we care for you, even if we don’t show it well.”

I watch him walk out of the infirmary. My father throws one last glance of pity over his shoulder before he pulls the door shut.

 

**Simon**

I get back from hanging out with Agatha and Penny at the lake late enough to see Baz in the bathroom slumped over the toilet, breathing heavily. Usually, he decides to get rid of the flowers with the door closed when I’m asleep.

(Half of the time I’m actually awake.)

 

I usually shower at night, but if Baz isn’t feeling well enough…

“Baz? You alright in there?”

He lets out a little groan, but doesn’t move.

“I’ll get you something, stay there.” I say to him, as if he can actually get up.

 

I reach for the cardboard box full of clear glass bottles underneath his desk. I’ve noticed that he takes the blue potion for the pain and the red potion for the cough, so I take both.

I go to the bathroom, and he’s still slumped over the petal-filled toilet.

“Come on, Baz. You’ve got to drink this and go to sleep.” I say, propping him up against the wall.  
I unscrew the cap of the red potion, pour a bit of it into the cap, and hand it to Baz for him to drink.

“Ngh… stop it. I don’t want it,” Baz whines, trying to hand it back.

 

“You’ve got to. That’s what the doctor told you.”

“What bloody difference does it make if I’m going to die in a few months anyway?”

“You never know, Baz! Whoever you love can love you back in a few months, right?”

“That will never happen!”

“You can’t be that sure!”

 

“I am sure, Snow!” He yells before jumping up to puke flowers into the toilet.

“Siegfried and fucking Roy, Baz, Just drink the damn thing.” I take the cap of medicine from him, grab hold of his chin, and pour the contents of it down his throat.

He momentarily sputters, but soon after gulping down the liquid, his heavy breathing calms down.

“Took you long enough.” I replace the cap of the red potion. “Here.” I open and pour out blue potion into its cap. This time, I hand it to Baz, and he gratefully takes it and throws it back in one swift motion.

 

We sit in silence on the bathroom floor after he hands back the cap.

“I don’t know why they’re wasting resources on me. I’m going to die anyway.”

“... I’m going to die. I don’t want to die.” He says after a pause, and I chance a look to my left only to see tears running down Baz’s face.

 

… Should I comfort him? I hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. I keep it there when I see he doesn’t recoil, although I see his eyes widen a bit.

 

“I didn’t ask for this, Snow. I didn’t ask for love.”

“That… sucks.” I internally slapped myself. _Sucks? Really? Just save yourself from embarrassment and don’t speak!_

“It does. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

 

I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen him this vulnerable. I’m even surprised he’s still letting me stay in here and see him like this.

“I wish I knew what to tell you, but…”

 

_This is a bad idea._

I reach out and wrap my arms around Baz’s crumpled figure, forming a hug that I hope is okay.

“Snow, you—“ He starts before shutting his mouth.

 

I thought he was going to pull away and start yelling at me, but instead he hugs me back and buries his head into the crook of my neck.

Definitely not what I was expecting.

Baz is shaking and I feel my shoulder get damp with tears.

I do nothing but pat and rub circles into his back. Is this comforting?

 

We sit there for Crowley knows how long before Baz stops trembling.

“Thank you… Snow.” He says once he pulls out of our embrace. Without another word, he leaves the bathroom.

After I take a shower, I come out to see him already passed out on his bed. Usually, I fall asleep before him; he always ends up falling asleep late. But now...

 

He’s getting weaker and weaker everyday.

I don’t think about how quiet our room would be without our banter once he’s gone.

 

**Baz**

Unfortunately, coughing what seems to be at least a cup of blood every day does take a toll on my immunity.

At least they gave me blood replenishing potions. I don’t have to go out and feed as much anymore.

 

Still, it doesn’t help the throbbing headache I have waking up.

I feel like I’m wading in custard. It’s been a while since I’ve become sick, but I’m absolutely sure that this is how having a fever feels like. My skin is cold and hot and clammy all at once.

It’s awful. But I’ve got to go to class.

 

I will myself to get up, but I promptly fall on the floor arse-first.

“Baz? You alright there?” I barely register Snow’s voice coming from the general direction of the bathroom.

I see him walk out, hair still disheveled. Why he isn’t down at breakfast yet is beyond me. “I’m fine,” I try to say, but I don’t think it came out as anything intelligible. My tongue feels too big for my mouth. Is that a symptom of a sickness?

“You don’t sound fine. Come on, get up, you git.” Simon walks over and takes my wrist, but he drops it immediately.

 

“Fucking hell, Baz!”

What’s got him cursing like a chavvy Normal?

“You’re burning up!”

Oh.

 

“Doesn’t matter, need t’ go to class.” I slur, trying to get up but, well, failing to. My bones and muscles ache.

“You have a fever, Baz. You are not going to class.” Snow grabs me by the armpits and lifts me back up on my bed. “You are staying here. I’ll be back up in a few.” He says, like he’s the boss of me.

“Whatever, Golden Boy.” I bite out, but I’m interrupted by a particularly hefty cough that produced a large handful of yellow poppies and blood.

Snow pulls a rubbish bin next to my bed before he leaves.

 

* * *

 

I don’t know how much time passes before he comes back up.

He’s holding a tray of food and medicine, as well as some towels.

“I have to go to class, but I brought breakfast. And medicine.” He puts down the tray on my desk. Before I know it, a bowl of some hot liquid is shoved under my nose. I wince, feeling queasy. Eating is the last thing I want to do right now.

“It’s just broth. It’s good for you.” He pauses, screwing up his face a bit. “At least, Penny says it is.”

 

“I don’t want that.”

“You need it.”

“I’m not drinking all that.”

“I’m asking you to take a sip, Baz. Just a sip.”

 

I begrudgingly take a mouthful of the soup. I use every bit of my willpower to not spit it out, but I feel _slightly_ better when I finally get it down.

“Great, now this.” Snow holds out a very small cup of syrupy brown liquid. He must have seen something on my face because he frowns at me.

“I got it from the infirmary; it’s for your fever. You can go back to class faster if you take it.”

 

I groan. “I’m going to kill you.”

“Stop your whining, you prat. I’m doing this for you.”

 

He forces the cup into my hand. I try to take a quick swig but it takes an agonizingly long time for the bitter liquid to even touch my tongue. Eventually I do manage to gulp down the syrup without gagging. “Did you make that, Snow? That was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Oh piss off.” He squints at me. He always looks adorable when he’s frustrated.

I’m seized by a coughing fit, and Simon pulls the trash can closer as my lungs try to expel the flowers growing in them.

I lie back down, panting and wheezing. Something cold and damp touches me on the head, and I flinch.

 

“It’s a towel. It’s not going to hurt you.” I hear Simon say.

“Anyway, I’ve got to go. There’s soup and medicine on your nightstand, when you need it.” Simon has one foot out of the door.

“I’ll see you later,” he says before closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Time doesn’t seem to exist, because he’s back in what seems like seconds later, holding a mug and various bottles in his hands. I know it’s been longer than a minute or two, because the setting sun is shining dark orange rays into our room.

 

“Have you gotten up at all?” He sets the mug and bottles down on my desk.

“Dunno. Can’t remember.”

“Sheesh. Well,” Simon walks over to my bed and kneels down, holding up a thin white gadget. “Penny gave me a thermometer. Don’t know where she got it, but she said to use it on you.”

He puts the thermometer under my arm and gets up.

“You need to eat. I brought up fresh broth and water.”

The thermometer goes off after a minute, beeping somewhat rapidly. Simon plucks it out and reads it. “38.9 degrees. That’s pretty bad.” He turns it off and puts it down on my desk.

 

“Alright, time to get up. You need more medicine and some food, I think.” I feel him slowly propping me up against the headboard.

“Eugh. I don’t wanna eat…”

“You’ve eaten nothing all day. You’ve got to eat.”

“I’m not eating this gross broth.”

“It’s not gross, Cook Pritchard made it for you. Aleister Crowley, I will shove this soup down your throat whether you like it or not, so help me.” He gets up to take the mug of hot broth off the table.

 

“Whatever.” I say, barely registering the words coming out of my mouth. “Feed me, Snow.”

He does a double take, swiveling his head so fast that the bronze curls on his head flopped off to the side. His eyes are wide, and he’s opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish. A very cute and handsome goldfish.

 

“You want me to feed you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would I? I’m not your slave.”

“You weren’t saying that when you skipped half of breakfast to take care of me, now were you?”

Snow flushes a pretty shade of red. “Cheeky bastard.”

 

“You love me.” I feel a dopey smile form on my face. Why am I saying that? _Oh no nonono—_

“Absolute tragedy that I have to live with you. You’re the worst.” Snow blusters, turning away and trying to rub the red from his face. He’s so cute when he’s embarrassed.

 

“So?”

“So what?”

“Are you gonna feed me?”

“... Fine. But only this once, because you’re sick.”

 

He sidles up to my bed, taking the mug of soup and a spoon.

Snow spoons out a bit of the soup and holds it out for me to eat.

I eat, and he spoons out more.

It’s calming, the motions are. The soup is making me feel better, except I’m unfortunately noticing that I have to take my potions soon. The soreness in my teeth is getting more obvious by the second, and Snow is starting to smell very good…

“You alright, Baz? You look like you want to puke.” He says, looking concerned.

“I need my potions. Now.”

He nods, reaching for the box of potions under my desk.

He hands me a cap of the green one, the blood replenishing potion, first. It was prescribed to me to help with the blood loss, but it helps my vampire side as I don’t need to go out to feed anymore.

I drink it as fast as possible, ignoring the searing feeling running down my limbs. Only seconds later, I realize that my teeth have stopped aching and I can’t smell Snow’s blood anymore.

He hands me the rest of the medicine I have to take, and after downing all of them, I start to feel better.

 

“I’ll be alright by tomorrow. I’m going to class.” Simon eases me back down on the bed before putting the medicine away.

“You are not going to class. Might spread whatever virus you have. I’ve told Possibelf that you won’t be in class for a few days, and she agreed to passing that on to your other teachers.”

“I don’t care.”

“You really do have a death wish. Besides, they’re not going to let a sick student in.”

I sigh, close my eyes, and turn towards the wall. “Fine. I’m going to sleep.”

 

I hear Simon snort behind me. I feel him brush the hair on my forehead back before putting another damp towel on it, and this time I don’t flinch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Simon**

 

I think people are starting to really pity Baz. As in, people are starting to come up to him and apologize and give well wishes and all that. Some girls are even going up and very subtly flirting with him in hopes that it’s them that Baz loves.

It’s annoying him, I think. His jaw is clenched and he’s tapping his foot impatiently every time someone goes up to talk to him between classes. Especially if it’s a girl who’s trying to shoot their shot.

Even the teachers are starting to go easy on him in class.

 

To be fair, though, we can all see him getting worse. His absence from class a few days back didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did his paler skin, trembling fingers, and raspy breaths.

He still keeps up his posh and confident attitude, chin held high and ocean-grey eyes looking down on everyone.

I have a feeling he’ll go the same way too. Standing tall and proud above everyone.

 

“Earth to Simon?” Penny says, snapping her fingers in front of my face.

We’re in the hills, and she’s helping me practice my magic. I don’t like practicing where other people can see. The wind is bitingly cold, as we’re a month and a half away from Christmas.

_A month and a half away from the day Baz dies._

 

“I’m here, Penny. I’m just thinking,” I say staring off into the mist.

“What are you thinking about?”

“...Baz.”

“Oh, here we go again.”

“I-It’s not like that. I just—“ I stop.

“Just what?”

“I realized that… I don’t want Baz to die.”

 

There’s silence for a painfully long second.

 

“I wish I could say I’m surprised, Simon. You do talk about him all the time.

“Yeah, but.. I hated him, didn’t I?”

“ _Hated,_ huh? So you don’t hate him now?”

“No! I mean, I don’t really but…” I throw my hands up. “I don’t know anymore, Pen. It’s too confusing. You remember when he was sick?”

“I remember, Simon. At breakfast, you ate half of what you usually do twice as fast to get Baz food and medicine from the infirmary. You’ve never done that for anyone before, especially not someone you constantly claim is your bitter rival.”

“I know, and I—“ I realize that I’m starting to go off a bit, so I take a deep breath to calm me down. “I was worried about him. Even now, I still am.”

 

Penny watches me with a knowing look in her eyes.

“Oh, Simon.”

“What do I do?”

“To be honest? You can’t do anything. All you can do is…” She looks away, picking at the grass and rolling it between her fingers. “All you can do is let the disease run its course, and let him go.”

 

I feel my limbs grow cold. “No. No, I can’t let that happen. He can’t die now.”

“Simon—“

“He can’t die. I—“ I suddenly feel too hot, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “I’m sorry, Penny, but I’ve got to go.” And I take off.

 

“Simon, wait!” I barely hear her as my legs subconsciously carry me back to the Mummers House.

 

* * *

 

I come back to see Baz sitting at his desk, a garbage bin right beside it.

 

He stopped going to the toilet when he needed to cough up flowers. Said that getting up when he needs to cough is getting ‘rather inconvenient.’

There are books and papers surrounding him. He’s making up the work that he’s been missing, hardworking as ever. He studies like he’s running out of time, except he is.

He glances up at me before returning to his work. “You don’t look good. Something happen?”

 

I say nothing, walking to my bed and pulling out a thick battered book. It’s a copy of Grimms’ Fairy Tales, well read with too many dog-eared pages. The Mage gave this copy to me in my first year. It was the first book I ever owned.

I close my eyes and turn to a random page. When I open them, I see the title in big bold letters.

 

_Briar Rose_.

 

“Snow, I can tell that you’re—“ he pauses to spit flowers and blood into the bin, “—you’re feeling bad. You’re moping like a kicked puppy.”

“Just because you’re my roommate doesn’t mean I have to tell you.” I retort, using his own words against him.

Baz shrugs. “Alright.”

We return to our tasks. I try to concentrate, but it’s hard to focus. I end up having to re-read the same paragraph over and over.

 

“... Is it about Wellbelove? She break up with you or something?”

“Wh— No! No, it’s not Agatha,” I sputter. “We’re not even dating anyway.”

 

“Oh,” Baz says coolly. “Didn’t know that.” He spits out more flowers before trying to speak again, his voice raspy. “You are aware that the whole of Watford thinks that you and Wellbelove are together?”

“Well, no. Not really. We did try dating a bit but it never really worked out, so we stayed friends.” I close my book, putting my full attention to the surprisingly civil conversation I’m having with Baz.

 

All of our interactions have been surprisingly and pleasantly civil, lately.

 

“Interesting. I’m not sure if you know of the… crush… that Wellbelove has on me.” Baz flips a page in his book.

“She does? It’s not that obvious.”

“Well, it’s very obvious. You’re just as observant as a brick wall.”

“ _Fuck_ you, Baz."

 

Pause.

 

“Then, what made you upset if it wasn’t a fight with Wellbelove?”

“It’s—“ I furiously scratch at my head, “—It’s nothing. Just something stupid.”

“Can’t be that stupid if you’re this upset over it. Actually, I’m wrong.” Baz corrects, holding a finger up, “Anything, no matter how stupid it is, can make you upset. Just last week you were crying about snakes.”

 

“Hey! But they don’t have any arms!”

“My point exactly.”

“You’re such an arse.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Snow.”

 

Baz returns to his school work, and I go back to trying to read the tale of Briar Rose.

The one where the princess pricks her finger on a needle and falls into a coma, and comes back to life with a kiss from a stranger who happens to be a prince.

I manage to get to the part right before she pricks her finger before Baz clears his throat to get my attention.

 

“What was it, anyway?”

“What was what?”

“What made you upset.”

 

I weigh the pros and cons of telling him. If I tell him, he might poke fun at me. Or think I’m gay. Or he could think that I actually _care_ about him now. Which I do.

“I kind of don’t want you to die.”

He turns to me, eyes wide.

 

“ _You_ don’t want me to die? Who are you and what did you do with Snow?”

“I’m serious, Baz.”

“What, six or seven years of us hating eachother and now all of a sudden, you pity me because of the disease?”

“I don’t _pity_ you. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

 

“You’ve become more agreeable these past months, and I can’t help but feel like I want to help you.”

“I’m not a charity case, Snow.”

“No! That’s not— I don’t mean it like that.”

“Then how do you mean it?”

 

“Great snakes, can you let me finish? I don’t want you to die because I like you as a _friend_. You’re not half bad.” I fidget. “This sounds gay, but I’m going to miss you. Our banter. You know?”

Truth is, I feel _awful_ at the thought of Baz being gone. Every time I look at Baz, I get a weird feeling in my chest as well as an urge to protect him. I want to keep him safe.

Baz looks at me thoughtfully. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll miss being alive.” He stops to cough up more flowers. I turn my eyes away when he spits up a piece of his flesh.

 

I’m feeling so many emotions that I don’t even know what to do. Baz has been on my mind in every waking moment. I hate seeing him like this.

I used to feel this protective of Agatha before we broke up. She used to be so important to me, but now? Baz takes her place.

 

_Wait._

_Baz takes her place._

 

Am I in… no, I can’t be. I’m not even gay. Am I?

_Face it, Simon._ _You have feelings for him. You’re in denial._

 

Shit.

This is the _worst_ timing ever. I realize my feelings for a dying boy who’s in love with someone else _less than a month_ before said boy dies.

I don’t even know what to do with these new feelings.

“Snow? Stop staring at me.” Baz says, because I didn’t notice that I’ve been staring at him the entire time I had my ‘crisis.’

 

“Sorry, sorry.”

 

Despite all this confusion, taking care of Baz and comforting him through his last days is the only thing I’m sure of.

It’s the only thing I can do.

 

**Baz**

 

I sincerely wish this disease could take me right now.

(Well, that is an exaggeration. But still.)

I’m not sure if people are aware that I can hear all of their conversations, especially if they’re about me. About who I supposedly love.

 

The most popular theory seems to be Wellbelove. The second most popular theory is that I’m faking it to distract the Mage from something the Old Families are doing, even though the Mage clearly doesn’t give a rat’s ass about one of his students coughing up flowers.

Not only do I hear about people’s ridiculous theories, I also hear nearby conversations of people trying to convince their friends to hit it up with me, as they might be the one I love.

 

It makes mealtimes more tedious.

Like at breakfast, right now.

 

“I was wondering if you would like to study at the library together this weekend?” The girl blushes, twirling a lock of light brown hair between her fingers. What was her name… Elspeth? Yes, Elspeth.

I glance back at Dev and Niall, and they’re watching me. Niall raises an eyebrow.

“No thank you. I’m not interested.” I turn back and tell her.

She drops the lock of hair that she’s been twirling. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I turn back to talk to Dev and Niall, and I hear her footsteps as she walks away.

 

“Are you ever going to tell us who it is? If you don’t fall in love, you’re going to die in a few months.” Dev says, sipping at a cup of tea while looking bored. They don’t know that I’ve been hiding this disease for longer than they think.

I’m not going to tell them that I’m due to die any day now.

 

“No.”

“Are you really okay with dying like that?”

“... No.”

“Then why aren’t you telling anyone?

“Why should I? It’s not anyone’s—“ I say before beginning to hack up a lung, holding a napkin over my mouth.

Dev and Niall patiently wait until I’m done.

“—Not anyone’s business.” I inspect the napkin (two whole flowers, 5 petals, and a part of a stem) before balling it up. Niall quietly casts an ‘Into thin air!’ on it, and it vanishes.

 

“We could help you, you know. Just tell us who this girl is.”

I accidentally bark out a laugh at ‘girl.’

“What’s so funny?”

“Like hell I’ll tell anyone who it is.” I say instead of telling them that I’d never date a girl.

“At least tell us if she’s a Watford student.”

 

I press my lips together. How much can I say about my unrequited love to satisfy their curiosity without giving away who it is?

“Yes, it’s a Watford student.”

“How do they look?”

“Beautiful,” I say before coughing up a whole poppy. I know if I say something as specific as eye or hair color, they’ll go on a goose hunt to try to find this mystery ‘girl.’

“Is that all you’re going to give us?”

 

“Yes, because I’d rather you not find my beloved. Even if it does kill me.”

I get up, gathering my things and leaving the dining hall. I feel Snow’s eyes on my back as I walk away.

 

* * *

 

I’ve been coughing up a lot more flowers than usual today. I keep having to excuse myself when I cough in class. I ended up just silencing my coughs with a hurried ‘The baby’s sleeping!’ so I wouldn’t have to keep disturbing everyone.

 

This… ‘dying-for-your-one-true-love’ nonsense is pathetic. The flowers make it even worse.

 

You know how embarrassing it is to cough up flowers in front of people who barely know you? And they know that you’re coughing them up because you love someone too much?

It’s the worst.

After the two month mark, I always feel the stems, leaves, and flowers in my chest. No spell or potion can get rid of the odd sensation.

I get the urge to cough out flowers at terribly inconvenient times, too. Like during demonstrations in class.

But I’m hoping that Magic Words won’t be as bad.

 

Unfortunately, Miss Possibelf makes me cast a spell in front of the class. No big deal, I’ve had to do a few demonstrations over the past few weeks while I had this, and I was fine, right?

Except halfway through, I begin to feel the poppies inch up my throat. I try to swallow it, because right now is not a good time.

 

But that doesn’t do anything. I excuse myself to cough into the crook of my elbow, except it does nothing but make the tightness in my throat worse to the point where I stop casting and drop my wand.

 

“Mr. Pitch, are you alright?” Miss Possibelf asks, concerned.

 

I can’t breathe.

I sway, gasping and clutching my neck as I fall to the floor, my body making a loud thud that shakes the students into action.

My vision swims, the plant in my chest squeezing my lungs. Red-stained petals fall out of my mouth onto the floor, and I’m greeted with the sensation of blood dripping out of my nose. Miss Possibelf and a few other students swarm me, trying to get me back up and make sure I’m alright, but I can’t.

 

I think this is where I finally die. This is where I follow in my mother’s footsteps by dying for someone I love. I think she’ll be proud.

 

_Snow, I love you._

_I wish you could have loved me back._

My vision fades to black but, for a fleeting moment before I lose my consciousness for good, I feel free.

 

* * *

 

**Simon**

 

I pace outside of the infirmary. From the rumors I’ve heard, Baz fell into a coma during class. The whispers say that he’s not going to make it.

This is the day he dies, they say. A week and a half before Christmas.

There are too many things running through my mind. I’ll never see Baz again. After this.

 

After this, he’s gone. He’ll be gone. No more fights, no more sarcastic quips. No more petty disagreements.

He was going to die, anyway. I was supposed to kill him, he’s my enemy. But… I don’t want him to die.

 

I want Baz to be back in our room. I want to know he’s alive, and not dead. I want to know that he’s still an arrogant prick who brushes salt and vinegar crisp crumbs between our beds.

The Mage would want me to be happy about this. The Pitches’ son is just another obstacle in my path to save the world of mages.

Why can’t I feel happy? Why is my chest so tight, and why do my eyes sting? Why am I crying for someone I’m supposed to hate?

 

I shake my head.

I hear the click of a door, and I turn my sight to the door of the infirmary. A woman with a streak of white in her hair and a man with a fancy, carved walking cane emerge, chatting quietly.

The woman looks up at me, with sadness and pity in her eyes. She takes the man by the arm and pulls him away.

I take this opportunity to slip into the room. There, on the bed near the window, was Baz.

 

His face is relaxed, his usual scowl gone. His hands are folded over his chest.

The lapels of his uniform is slightly wrinkled, so I reach out and brush it out carefully.

I let my hands linger for a second, and his chest is barely rising. I could barely feel his pulse, but he’s still alive.

I sit on the side of his bed.

 

“You know, Baz. I never—“ I coughed, my throat tightening, “—never thought that this would be the way you go.” I say, more for my sake than his.

“You always seemed untouchable and unfazed. Cool and aloof. No one affected you. But… I guess this time it was different. We never even found out who you loved.” I take a deep breath, slowly reaching out and brushing his hair back from his forehead. This is a bad idea.

“I wish we could have stopped fighting sooner. I regret that. I wish we could have talked more. I wish we… we could have been more.”

I wipe my eyes with my sleeve. Keep it together, Simon. I reach out and take his hand.  _What am I even doing?_

 

“What I’m saying is… I miss you so much. God, I wish you were here. I want you to be here with me right now.” I choke out, my throat tightening so much I could barely talk.

Without thinking, I slowly lean down and give Baz’s temple a soft kiss.

“I love you, Baz. I love you so much that it hurts.”

I lay my hand on his chest, and I notice that it’s not rising anymore. I can’t hear his breathing. There is no pulse.

 

Baz is…

I choke out a sob, the pain in my chest getting tighter and the stinging behind my eyes getting sharper.

I see red. My skin is prickling hot, like electricity is running through it.

_Why is life so unfair?_

I grab for Baz’s hand and hold on to it for dear life. I rub circles on his cold knuckles.

_Why did he have to leave?_

“Please come back, please.” I say, despite knowing that Baz is never going to come back.

 

With a last kiss on his cheek, I screw my eyes shut and hang my head low, cradling him in my arms and never letting go of his hand.

 

### Notes:

Sorry for the sad ending, but thanks for reading to the end!

[]() []() []() [](http://archiveofourown.org/comments/show_comments?work_id=YOUR_WORK_ID_HERE)

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

All of a sudden, the boy in my arms jolts up, coughing up a storm of flowers.

I hand him a bin, but I notice that my hands are glowing and trembling, magic pulsing beneath my skin.

Only then does it hit me.

_Did I do this? And was I the one he loved all along?_

“Wh—“ I stutter. “You’re alive!”

Baz finishes coughing up the rest of the flowers and he sits up, panting as if he just ran two marathons.

“Simon? Is it you or am I dreaming?”

I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “It’s me, Baz.” I place my hand on his cheek, and he leans into it. “I’m here. You’re here.”

Tears begin to stream down Baz’s face. 

“Was I really the one you loved this whole time?”

He looks away and bashfully nods.

I sigh and (lightly) punch him in the shoulder before I pull him into a tight hug. “You should have told me. Aleister fucking Crowley, Baz. You scared the ever living  _ shit _ out of me.” 

He stiffens for a second before he returns the hug just as tightly.

“Wait… does this mean that you… you love me?” Baz says, his face buried in my shoulder.

“Don’t make me repeat my corny confession.”

“If no one heard you, did you  _ actually _ confess?”

“Fine.” I pull out of the hug to look Baz straight in his eyes.

“Tyrann- Ty- Tyra— Oh fuck it. Baz Pitch,” I say, giving up on his behemoth of a name, “I love you. I love you so much that it hurt when I had to watch you die. I never realized it until recently, and I— I really thought I was too late.”

Baz chuckles, shaking his head. “I never even thought you were going to return my feelings. I was beginning to accept my death the moment I coughed up that first petal. It still feels like a dream.”

“Well, it’s not. I really do love you, you git.” I give him another kiss on the cheek. 

“You should show me how much you love me then, hm?” Baz smirks, cocking an eyebrow as a challenge.

I roll my eyes. “We can’t do anything too much in  _ here. _ But…” I steel myself for what I’m about to ask. Hopefully Baz doesn’t notice how shaky my hands are.

“... Can I kiss you?”

“Merlin, please do.”

The reply is instant, and Baz’s lips are on mine in a second.

It’s not as awkward as most first kisses went. It’s sweet and slow. His lips are soft albeit being slightly salty from the tears. 

_ I’m kissing a boy. I’m kissing Baz. _

_ Baz, my rival. Not rival anymore, I don’t think. _

_ Because I like this a lot better than fighting, and I think he does too.  _

We separate after a minute, looking into each other’s eyes with our hands intertwined.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I don’t. How long have you… loved me?”

Baz sighs, rubbing at his face. “I’ve started liking you… ever since first year. But… I’ve  _ loved _ you since 6th year. Well, more like I  _ realized _ I loved you.” He shakes his head. “Never in my life did I think that I would someday be telling you about my feelings for you.”

“I didn’t think I’d fall in love with my sworn enemy, but I guess anything is possible.” I chuckle.

We do nothing but stare into eachother’s eyes until Baz clears his throat.

“I’d hate to interrupt our bonding moment but… I’m starving.”

“I could bring you something later. I know you’re not afraid to eat in front of me anymore.” 

“I still remember what fever-delirious me did. ‘Feed me, Snow!’. Absolutely mad.”

“I thought it was nice to know you trusted me.” I shrug.

“I guess. When do you think I can start eating something other than broth? I’ve only been eating soup recently because it was the only thing I could keep down.”

“Not today. Your stomach wouldn’t be used to anything too solid. Wouldn’t want you to get sick again for a more pathetic reason.”

“Isn’t getting sick with Hanahaki more pathetic, though?”

I take a moment to think. “Not really. If you listen to the rumors, most of Watford think that you willing to die for your love is noble and romantic. Say it’s something straight out of a romance novel. Or a fan-fiction on AO3, I’ve heard some say.”

“Really? Interesting.” Baz rubs his chin, in deep thought.

“Speaking of Watford… what are we going to do? About this?” I continue, gesturing to our clasped hands. “I don’t want to hide it, but I don’t want to know what your family and the Mage will think of it either.” 

“Fuck what Watford, my family and the Mage wants. Actually, fuck what the world of mages thinks, too.” Baz says with no hesitation. “What we want to do is what matters most, because I did not just die for us to hide it.” He squeezes my hand. 

“I trust you,” I say, and I hug him again. My eyes might be puffy from the crying, but warmth and love replaced the stinging tightness in my chest.

 

“The hug is nice and all, but this doesn’t change the fact that I’m starving.”

“Want to sneak to the kitchens, then? Think Cook Pritchard has some leftover stew stored from dinner yesterday.”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

**Baz**

Hanahaki Disease. A rare illness that is, to be frank, a colossal pain in the arse. Born from unrequited love, the victim pukes up flowers until they either die or get cured. 

For the past four months, I had it. The first Pitch in decades to get it, too. 

But I’m a special case because I lived to tell the tale. I was cured by my love being returned, not by surgery. Few people can say that they suffered from Hanahaki Disease and got cured by having their love returned.

Yes, I had my love returned by the Chosen One himself. The Mage’s Heir, the Prophesied One, whatever you want to call him.

(You know, one of the two main characters in the nine thousand word work you just read.)

I love Simon Snow. 

And now, I’m glad I do. 

* * *

Saying that the next few days after my “death” will be incredibly hectic is a huge understatement.

There’s paperwork to be signed, questions to be answered, schoolwork to be made up.

Sometimes I think about how much calmer it would have been for me if I died.

Then I remember that if I die, I would never see Snow again. Bronze hair, blue eyes. 

I know I can do anything as long as he’s at my side. 

“So…” Dev takes a sip of his tea at lunch. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

I scoff. I hear footsteps, and I see Snow as I briefly glance behind my shoulder. I turn back and expectantly hold a hand out behind me. Rather than Snow’s callused hand, I get a thick stack of papers in my hold.

“What is this?” I say to him, as I turn around again with a sour look on my face.

“Assignments from the Minotaur. Due by next week, he says.” He flicks his eyes to Dev and Niall before going in for a brief peck on the corner of my mouth. 

Quiet gasps erupt in the Great Hall, and when I look around I see plenty of students in varying degrees of shock. I even see a girl handing someone money underneath the table. 

(I feel as if I should be surprised that someone bet on me, but I’m not. It was bound to happen.)

Dev and Niall just shrug. They’re taking this surprisingly well. 

“It makes sense now. He was the only one you couldn’t have, what with him being the Mage’s heir and all.” Niall says, and Dev nods in agreement.

“Well, I’ve got to go,” Snow says to me. “I promised Penny that I would help her study a bit.” He gestures to the table across the hall, where Wellbelove and Bunce sit, watching.

I catch his hand before he pulls away. “Won’t you give me a proper kiss then?” 

Snow flushes and shyly looks away. “Later,” he whispers, “At our room. Now I really should, uh, go.” He takes my hand and draws soothing circles onto my knuckles. He likes to do that a lot.

 

“See you later?”

“See you later.”

I turn back to my mates.

“Well, what does your father think of all this?”

I shrug. 

“We’ll see how it works out at Christmas dinner.”

* * *

Christmas dinner went alright. The conversation was stilted, as expected, and I could tell that they were all judging my “date.”

Mordelia thankfully held her tongue and didn’t ask any… inappropriate questions… about my taste in men.

Despite being saved by Simon Snow, my father is still uneasy at the thought of me dating him.

He’s trying, though.

Snow and I bolted up to my room the moment dinner was over.

“That was…” He says, laying next to me on my bed, legs hanging off the side.

“Exhausting?” I turn my head to look at him. Curls fall over his face, and I reach over to brush them away,

“Yeah.”

“They’ll come around soon. They’re still getting used to it.”

“I hope they come around soon, because it’s a little scary.” Snow says before bolting up. “I almost forgot! I got you something!” He goes to the corner of the room where his bag is, and promptly begins digging into it before pulling out a neatly wrapped box.

“Um.. Merry Christmas, Baz.” He hands the package to me. He looks at me expectantly, and I take that as a signal to open it.

I tear the wrapping paper and rip the box open, my hands brushing against soft, thick fabric. 

I pull it out. It’s a black and grey colorblock hoodie. 

“It’s thick and warm. You’re always cold, so I thought that you’d like something comfier. I’m sorry that it’s not much, I can’t afford fancy gifts—”

I cut him off by pulling into a hug. “Don’t fret. I like it.” I really do. Hell, I’ll be happy with anything Snow gets me even if it were candy you get from a vending machine.

(The fact that the hoodie smells like him is a big plus.)

“Well, there’s more in the box.” He says, so I dig through the tissue paper. I find an Aero bar, some other candy, and even a green brick of rosin for my violin.

I sigh. “You didn’t have to get me all these things. I’ll love anything that you give me, you know that right?”

“Yeah, but.. I wanted to!” Snow looks up at me, stubborn as always.

I give him a gentle kiss. “Thank you, Simon. I have something for you too.” I go over to my shelf and pull a black box from the very top.

“Merry Christmas,” I say, handing it to him.

“This looks really fancy; what’s in it?” 

“That’s for you to find out, hm?”

He lifts the top of it, showing an elegant wrist watch. Snow’s eyes widen, and he takes it out to admire it; it has a navy blue watch face, three silver dials, and brown crocodile-leather straps.

“This is for me?”

“Of course it’s for you, you dunce.” I tease, “Who else would it be for? Mordelia?”

“It’s just..  _ So nice. _ I’ve never had anything like it. It’s— I like it a lot.” He turns the watch around in his hands. There’s a date engraved on the back of it.

15/12/17

“A date…?”

“The day you brought me back to life. The day you finally admitted that your years-long obsession with me was not because you hated me, but because you wanted to get into my pants.” 

“Oh, fuck off Baz.” He laughs, lightly punching me in the shoulder. There’s no venom in his voice.

I smile. “Well, aren’t you going to put it on?”

Snow fumbles with the watch before fastening it on his wrist. “Thank you so much.” He gives me a hug, his whole body pressed against mine.

I sigh, savoring the hug.

Outside, flurries of snow hit the window. The room is cold because the fireplace isn’t on. I could complain and turn it on, but I don’t feel like letting go of Simon anytime soon.

_ Simon Snow, as cheesy as it sounds, you are my heart and my soul. You have been for years. This time, I thought I was going to die with you never knowing. But you saved me. _

_ Your love gave me a second chance in life, and I’m glad to spend the rest of it with you. _

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That fake ending was _completely_ unnecessary. But you know, I wanted to play with it a little bit. This is my first work with a work skin and oh boy was it a doozy to figure out. But I did!
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys _so much_ for reading. Every kudos and comment makes me cry actual tears of joy.


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